dimecres, 25 de maig de 2011


In one of my increasingly frequent periods of inconsistency, having promised in a post to collect some of the reasons why I thought it should not happen me being in the Camping (my age, my relatively boring life, my cautious skepticism about when it will stop ...), that my head is turning (rhetoric) of 180 degrees, and desperately seeking an excuse to spend an hour or two there, and in the name of my blog, my curiosity, open a window to peek therebased on open and walking around, careless remarks and choose, at random, or nearly half a dozen people to explain me a pair of things. I have to give me a rush, it seems that Trias has pointed out he does not want this people there on 11 June, which I think is the date for his inauguration as mayor. I wonder if that date is not to impose an expiration date and put this situation, some as marking a period in which all are already a little bit sick. Surely it will be hotter, of course. Sure, the aliens, the people who slyly criticized in another post, this mass that according to some are those who stay at home bored, get off there to hang out, may have been bequeathed to the witness minority sort of militant resistance. Cease to call to call them angry hotheads, perhaps with the passage of the weeks they mark an area, which are evidently reduced to stay there. As the statues of the Rambla so beloved by Quim Monzo, soon to be one of the obligatory tourist stop tours of some more or less alternative route. It's just a hypothesis sarcastic , do not expect or desire that to happen, indeed, if I write it, and only one I read, this is an incentive not to go. I hope to do, not laziness overcomes me.

In 1988, Prince appeared to be the undisputed master of the scepter of dubious reputation (how else is it that today holds the Lady Gaga) which is the universal title of king of pop. In front of a timid, unproductive, and self-conscious Michael Jackson (Prince did not lack the complex, such as being short), Prince had reached to the podium on base, especially a creative torrent that had led him to make records at a rate almost yearly: 1999, Purple Rain, Parade, Sign o'the Times, Lovesexy. Around the world in a day, it seemed that was not going to waste your time, even if based on irregular releasing albums with great songs and themes filling experiments. I remember with enormous excitement, recorded on VHS tape, loving (who fell into oblivion in one of my subsequent removal) a concert in Dortmund, I think September 88 was broadcast on TV. A speaker who attended the concert as if it were an economic conference defined it, teleprompter in hand, as the first artist of the century (perhaps he said of the 90 in any case, I wont't find the tape). The concert was fantastic, promoting his latest album, Lovesexy, with spectacular staging and updated versions and quite powerful both songs on the disc: an almost mystical spectacular Anna Stesia, Alphabet Street phenomenal, and their classics: an accelerated version When You Were Mine is without doubt one of the reasons why I am writing today about Prince. Even published some more albums with some impact, even would collect a few more of those girls Prince whose influence on fashion aesthetics of a certain type of women is unquestionable (women who have no qualms whatsoever in enhancing their sexual attractiveness in the most obvious) . I remember that, gradually lost interest in his work. One of the last songs I loved every minute of it was this medium tempo bluessy

Prince continued releasing albums, had problems with the record company, was photographed with the word slave written on his cheek. Pulled records under strange names or signs, he wanted to star in a kind of revolution by himself, but that effort also took its toll on his inspiration. I can not say so categorically: I haven't heard accurately his latest albums, for which, knowing what was going to find there ... HV sexual ballads, but boring and monotonous, the missionary position in song, over and over again .... cutting themes moved to dance so funky spasmodic and move on ... small guitar passages where he wanted to be, again, Jimi Hendrix, BB King, who wants to inspire you ... indigestible passages of jazz-funk and melody meaningless and genius: again and again, album after album, year after year.
His latest album, to date, was delivered for free with a newspaper in England.

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